


no need for pretending, we've got you all figured out

by raewrites



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, NSFW, Threesome, and ronan and adam do something about that, idk what to say this is like the most self indulgent fic i've ever written, the one where gansey is stressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:05:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4329636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raewrites/pseuds/raewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam frowns, eyes flickering from the door to meet Ronan’s gaze already leveled on him. He inhales slowly, Ronan’s eyes holding his, reading him in a way Adam hadn’t believed possible until he had proved it again and again. Adam exhales, rolling onto his side to properly face the other, head cradled in his palm as he considers his own thought a second time before speaking it.</p><p>“We could help."</p><p>“A handjob’s not gonna fix his problems, Parrish.”</p><p>“Well, it’s not going to make them any <i>worse.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	no need for pretending, we've got you all figured out

**Author's Note:**

> This is a side-project I got to working on while finishing up ['Let's Get Together Before We Get Much Older.'](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4320051)
> 
> I have nothing to say.
> 
> This is literally just three-thousand words of self-indulgent OT3.
> 
> Enjoy.

Gansey is annoying.   
  
     It's a fact the rest of them have long-accepted among other Gansey-isms, most of them attributing to this same general conclusion. This list includes, but is not limited to: his preppy boat shoes, his obnoxious, mouthful of a name, his pretentious vocabulary, his affinity for pastel pollo shirts that make him look like an Old Navy summer-addtion mannequin brought to life, his tendency to micromanage, and his affinity for compartmentalization despite certain things (See: Ronan, Adam, Blue, and Noah) being adamantly opposed to such a process by their nature.     
  
     But Gansey is _particularly_ annoying when he’s stressed about something.  
  
     This is entirely due to the fact that he refuses to tell anyone that he’s stressed, drawn on by his persistent desire to keep face. Its an action that’s remarkable in its consistency at accomplishing the complete opposite. Gansey's attempts to muffle whatever’s upsetting him are similar to a child trying to hide a gameboy under their bedsheets; an honorable attempt, but painfully obvious to anyone with eyes, especially eyes that know to look.  
  
     Adam has been noticing the signs for a week or so now; stiff shoulders, furrowed eyebrows, sloping frowns lining his face when he doesn’t think anyone is watching, books held between lax fingers as his eyes lie static on a single line, thoughts a tangle in elsewhere. These aren’t the things that annoy Adam, however, but the fake Gansey that is always,  _“Great, thanks for asking!”_ and the smile that follows, an immaculate copy of the original if Adam didn’t know any better.  
  
     Adam breaks away from Ronan’s lips, directing his eyes towards Ronan's closed bedroom door at the sound of a particularly loud, exasperated groan following the sound of Gansey aggressively snapping his laptop closed, the creak of his box spring mattress sounding after what Adam can rightfully assume is a very dramatic flop upon it. It’s the only kind Gansey is ever capable of.   
  
     “Do you know what’s wrong this time?” He asks Ronan, who has since moved his attention from Adam’s shifted interest to his slightly jutted collarbone, scraping his teeth along its length before answering.  
  
     “His mom’s campaign.” Ronan replies lazily, trailing feather-soft kisses to the hollow of Adam’s throat and sliding his tongue into the dip of it, drawing a slow breath from between Adam’s teeth. But when Adam’s eyes remain on the door, eyebrows pulled together with concern, Ronan heaves a sigh and adjusts himself to his side, propped up on an elbow to set his own gaze on the door. “She’s reeling him in for more events lately.” One of Ronan’s fingers hooks in the hem of Adam’s shirt, tugging on it idly as he continues, “He feels guilty about being annoyed with her for it. Then he feels annoyed for feeling guilty. Rinse and repeat."  
  
     “He told you?”  
  
     Ronan scoffs at that, raising an amused eyebrow, and Adam knows the answer before it’s said to him, “You think think he would?” Then, “You think he _has_ to?”   
  
     Adam frowns, eyes flickering from the door to meet Ronan’s gaze already leveled on him. He inhales slowly, Ronan’s eyes holding his, reading him in a way Adam hadn’t believed possible until he had proved it again and again. Adam exhales, rolling onto his side to properly face the other, head cradled in his palm as he considers his own thought a second time before speaking it, “We could help."  
  
     “A handjob’s not gonna fix his problems, Parrish.”  
  
     “Well, it’s not going to make them any _worse_.” Adam replies, eyes glancing to the door briefly before they drag back to Ronan, slow and lidded, “It helped him last time.” He pauses, remembering when the two of them had Gansey under their touch, flushed pink from his broad chest to the tips of his ears, loose and pliant beneath their fingers and mouths, moans breathy and lovely in their complete lack of inhibition. Adam rolls to nose at Ronan’s jaw, dragging a kiss up the bone to his ear, mouthing around the shell of it when he adds, “And it was fun for _us,_ right?"   
  
     Ronan’s breath hitches audibly, tilting his chin slightly, allowing Adam a better angle to continue. Adam’s voice is a hushed, accented drawl when he says, “Don’t you remember how _responsive_ he was?” He tongues at Ronan’s ear lobe before blowing a cool breath on the slick skin, feeling the low groan that rises in Ronan’s throat before he hears it, “How _loud_ he was?"  
  
     “Damnit, Parrish.” Ronan growls, turning to nip admonishingly at Adam’s bottom lip before he shoves himself off of the bed, pacing across the room to throw open the door to the rest of Monmouth Manufacturing. Ronan’s tone is amusingly exasperated and equally urgent when he calls out to the pile of boy on the mattress across the room, “C’mon, Gansey. Get in here.”  
  
     Adam vaguely hears a sound of muffled protest as Gansey presumably says something into the disarray of unmade sheets that perpetually graces the surface of his bed. Ronan squints at him with a scowl, shifting his eyes from Gansey to Adam still lying expectantly on his bed.  
  
     “He says he’s fine. I think.”   
  
     “He’s not fine.”  
  
     “I _know.”_ Ronan replies, gesturing towards the rest of the warehouse outside of his bedroom door with a slight tilt of his chin, “So if he’s not going to drag his ungrateful ass in here for a handjob, we’ll just go to him.”   
  
     Grinning, Adam lifts himself from the bed and stands to his feet, toeing the door slightly closed behind him as he follows Ronan across the expanse of Monmouth Manufacturing to where Gansey lies in a rumpled pile at the foot of his bed, arms hanging limp off the end of it, his face pressed hilariously into the mattress.   
  
     Gansey has two modes when it comes to dealing with things that don’t go his way, Adam has realized: Maturely, which is his default; all calculated assessment and firm authority. And childishly, which is the state in which they find him now; when all efforts to deal with his problems maturely have fallen through and he finds himself with little in-between to fall back on. This rare state of Gansey is a paradox of sorts in which Adam finds himself struggling with whether or not he believes this phenomenon to be wholly defining of Gansey as an individual, or entirely unlike him at all.  
  
     “Cut the bullshit, Dick.” Ronan says, sitting heavily on top the bed, the force of it rocking Gansey slightly, though doing ultimately nothing to alter his useless posture.  
  
     “I’m fine.” Gansey replies into the mattress again, making a slight effort to lift one of his dangling arms and wave is dismissively above his head, “I told you.”   
  
     Adam, entirely unconvinced, sits on Gansey’s other side, catching Ronan’s eye before he leans down to brush his lips to the nape of Gansey’s neck just below his hairline, startling the other so much that he probably would have knocked Adam’s front teeth out if Adam hadn’t been expecting such a reaction, pulling away just a moment before.  
  
     Slowly rolling over onto his side, Gansey shifts his glance between them, a gentle flush already creeping up the back of his neck and over the bridge of his well-bred nose. Adjusting himself into a sitting position, Gansey lifts a hand to cup the back of his neck where Adam’s lips had touched him, the pink in his cheeks now prominent as Ronan’s mouth curls into a wicked smile, the amused quirk of Adam’s own a promise if Gansey is willing to accept it.  
  
     “You’d do that _again?”_ Gansey asks tentatively, his voice uncharacteristically quiet with wavering self-conciousness as Adam shares a look with Ronan, the other nodding at some unspoken suggestion of Adam’s and adjusting himself to sit just behind Gansey. Adam’s expression is easy and assured when he catches Gansey’s eyes again, shifting forward slightly to press his palm to the spot just under Gansey’s ribs, guiding him gently between Ronan’s legs until his back eventually settles against the taller boy’s chest.  
  
     “We will,” Adam begins, retracting his hand from Gansey’s chest and using it to nudge the other’s knees apart and settle himself cross-legged between them, holding Gansey’s gaze like he’s gingerly held uprooted flowers in the palms of his hands, waiting for direction from Cabeswater before planting them again. He looks at Gansey in the same way, steady with a willingness to comply as long as he’s given confirmation to proceed, “If you want us to.”  
  
     Gansey tilts his head back against Ronan’s shoulder, turning it slightly to look at him. Ronan responds to the question in his eyes with an affectionate press of his nose into the hair at Gansey’s temple, tickling the other slightly by the way Gansey’s nose scrunches and his lips wobble into a smile. Facing Adam again, Gansey nods, his smile holding, albeit shakily in his now growing anticipation, and Adam offers him an encouraging squeeze of his fingers around his kneecap and a soft smile in return.  
  
      Adam watches as Ronan’s hands slide down Gansey’s sides, fingernails scraping gently over the threaded material of his navy polo before curling at its hem, tugging upwards to reveal planes of pleasantly tanned, contoured skin as Gansey lifts his arms obligingly above his head, allowing Ronan to pull the shirt completely over his shoulders before discarding the bundle over the side of the bed. Eyes roaming appreciatively over Gansey’s bare chest and slimly muscled abdomen, Adam trails his own fingers up and down the bend of Gansey’s knees along the insides of his thighs, feeling the other shift responsively under the touch.  
  
     Ronan’s dips his head to nose at Gansey’s neck, pressing unhurried, open-mouthed kisses along its length before eventually finding Gansey’s fluttering pulse and flattening his tongue over it. Gansey visibly shudders when Adam slides his hand down his thigh to cup over the front of his kakis in the same moment that Ronan bares his teeth down to nip a lilac mark against his skin.  
  
     Gansey releases a small, breathy sigh, shifting his hips in poorly-concealed eagerness as Adam thumbs along the outline of his steadily hardening cock through the well-threaded, obviously expensive material containing him against the satisfaction of Adam’s hands,  practiced and intoxicating on his skin. Ronan’s own hands linger near Gansey’s waist, rubbing slow circles into the gentle curve of it, his mouth working down to the ridge of Gansey’s broad shoulders. Ronan looks up from his ministrations to watch as Adam flicks playfully at the pants zipper with his fingernail, reveling somewhat in Gansey’s indignant huff of impatience.  
  
     Conceding to the sound, Adam squeezes his fingers around the bulge near its head, the strained hitch of breath and accompanying moan that follows as Gansey rolls his head back against Ronan’s shoulders sending a sharp, pleasing rush to the base of Adam's spine. He glances up briefly to catch Ronan’s eyes watching him, pupils blown and hungry, satisfying its craving by nipping his way up Gansey’s neck, a single finger lifting to tilt Gansey's chin back at just the right angle before consuming his sounds between full, clever lips.  
  
     Feeling his own heartbeat quicken pace at the sight of Ronan tugging Gansey’s bottom lip between his teeth, Adam slides his palm down Gansey’s length a last time before maneuvering over to the button of Gansey’s pants, dragging the zipper down in a leisurely motion, and hooking his fingers in the waistband of the kakis to pull them effortlessly down Gansey’s thighs as the other lifts his hips accommodatingly. A layer closer to what he wants, Gansey’s fingers grip at where they rest on top of Ronan’s thighs, kneading the muscle in restless expectancy.   
  
     Any lingering inhibitions that Gansey may have been harboring completely eradicate themselves as Adam’s fingers finally slip under the elastic waistband of his boxers, curling around his cock. Gansey’s hips jerk sharply underneath the touch, mouth breaking from Ronan’s lips to let out a choked half-shout. Reading the slight nod of Adam’s head, Ronan's hands slide to cup themselves at the curves of Gansey’s hipbones, holding him comfortably, but firm against the mattress as Adam offers a slow, preliminary stroke from the base of Gansey’s cock to its head.   
  
     “Shit, Ronan.” Adam says suddenly, frowning, and Gansey makes a wholly undignified noise when Adam’s hold on him slackens a bit, “We forgot the lube in your room.”  
  
      _“You_ forgot it, Parrish.” Ronan replies, Gansey himself so on edge that the brush of Ronan’s breath against his skin elicits an involuntary twitch of his nerves under his skin, “This was your idea. You’re supposed to be the genius, anyway.”  
  
     Glaring at him, Adam begins to shift his legs from underneath himself, saying, “I’ll get it then.”before Gansey suddenly reaches out to take hold of his wrist, pulling Adam’s gaze back towards him.   
  
     “You don’t need it.” Gansey says, voice breathless and strained, eyes hazy and urgent with his need for Adam to stay exactly where his is, “The friction…” he begins, flushing a shade darker in the ears and along the curve of his neck, “The friction is good. Adam, _please.”_  
  
Feeling a jolting twinge of arousal at the front of his own jeans at Gansey’s wanting plea, Adam resettles himself between Gansey’s generously parted legs, eyes flicking from Gansey’s to Ronan’s, the taller boy shrugging in an entirely unhelpful motion.  
  
     “He’s already wet as fuck.” Ronan offers after a moment, his thumb lifting from one of Gansey’s hips to glide over the slit of his cock as demonstration, Gansey sucking a hissing breath between his teeth and shuddering to the ends of his toes as he does so, “He’ll be fine. He knows what he wants.” Agreeing indisputably with Ronan on this last part, Adam relents to both of their words. Tugging down the waistband of the boxers for slightly better access, Adam indulges in a teasing brush of his finger pads along the underside of Gansey's flushed cock before he grips it again.  
  
     After a few obliging strokes, Adam realizes Ronan had been right, the precum beading at the slit slicking his grip to a smooth slide of his fingers up and down the length. As Adam settles on a pace, Gansey’s noises steadily increase in rhythm and volume.   
  
     Lifting his hands from Gansey’s hips to allow the other the indulgence of steadily rolling his hips up into Adam’s touch, Ronan grazes his fingernails over the lines of Gansey’s abdomen to cup at his pectorals, thumbs rolling over the hardened nipples crowning their centers.   
  
     A twist of Adam’s wrist and timely pinch of Ronan’s fingers leaves Gansey’s mouth slack, shakily gathering uneven breath to his lungs as he turns his head to bury his face into the crook of Ronan’s shoulder, mouthing desperately at the long line of Ronan’s neck. Eyelids fluttering shut over hazy, hazel eyes, Gansey allows himself to become entirely engulfed in the warmth of Ronan's encompassing him from behind and Adam’s long fingers encircling his cock, generous in pressure and pace while remaining just on the cusp of teasing.  
  
     Adam carefully observes all of Gansey’s reactions; the heave of his chest, the undulating motion of his hips, the way his breaths hitch and hold every time Adam thumbs over the slit, exhaling in a stutter of hot breath against Ronan’s neck when Adam slides his hands back to its base. Adam registers Ronan’s touches as well, the praises and encouragements he breathes in a low, hushed voice against the shell of Gansey’s ear, the combination of stimulation weaving a building tension at the base of Gansey’s spine with neither hasty urgency nor languid indolence.     
  
     “C’mon, Gansey.” Ronan prompts in a low whisper, the curve of his lips brushing alluring along the curve of the flushed skin. His eyes lift to Adam’s, holding them in such an erotic, captivating way and Adam feels a hot flush bristle the hairs on his arms and along the nape of his neck. Ronan doesn’t look away as he says, “We've got you, Gansey. C’mon.”  
  
     Gansey wimpers as Ronan’s words seep into him and harbor under his skin, Adam assisting them with a quickening pace to his strokes, Gansey’s cock a brilliant, throbbing red in his hands so close to orgasm.   
  
     “Let go of it, Gansey.” Adam adds, watching as Gansey’s hips stutter in their thrusts, muscles wound tight and tense, about to unravel completely, “We want you to let go of it.”  
  
     At Adam’s last words and a the hard bite of Ronan’s teeth on his earlobe, Gansey orgasms with a echoing shout, his entire body tensing as waves of pleasure spark his nerves and ignite under his skin from the nape of his neck to his toes curling into the bedsheets. Gansey pants babbling curses into Ronan’s neck, back curved in a gentle slope and knuckles white where his fingers clench fiercely in the material of the other's jeans. Adam patiently strokes him through each pulsating jolt of engulfing feeling until Gansey is shaking with over-stimulation, reaching a trembling hand from Ronan’s thigh to still Adam’s hand in an attempt to catch his breath and regain possession of himself again.  
  
     Adam smiles with satisfaction, fingers releasing from Gansey’s cock to draw lazy patterns over his stomach, sticky with sweat and strings of come, watching amusedly as the muscles twitch sensitively under his touch. Ronan’s fingers trail idly up and down Gansey’s sides, pressing kisses to the hinge of his jaw as the other gradually comes down, eyes fluttering open and looking between them with a wonderfully blissed-out expression. Adam observes it with a pleased grin, matching the one that Ronan presses to Gansey’s temple.  
  
     “Feeling better?” Adam asks when Gansey’s lips eventually pull into a lazy smile, eyelids heavy and eyes bright beneath them.   
  
     “Yeah.” Gansey manages, voice wobbly as he gathers a few slow breaths, the rise and fall of his chest steadily evening. The corner of Adam’s lips quirk as he represses the want to mention the apparent loss of Gansey’s extensive vocabulary post-orgasm when the other simply repeats, _“Yeah.”_  
  
     “That’s wonderful, Dick.” Ronan begins as Adam retracts his hand and stands to make his way towards the kitchen-bathroom-laundry room for a towel, “But now I’m hard as fuck, so when is it my turn, Parrish?”  
  
     Adam throws him a raised eyebrow over his shoulder, “Why don’t you help clean up your messes first?”  
  
     Gansey says a small, indignant,  _“Hey.”_ at that, though it ultimately lacks force in his current sated state. Adam gives him the same eyebrow raise he’d given Ronan, turning his back to both of them and saying, “I’ll be right back, and then we’ll see.”  
  
     Adam grins, vaguely hearing Gansey mumble something and Ronan reply with,  _“You’re fucking welcome.”_ before he steps into the kitchen-bathroom-laundry room and toes the door closed behind him. 


End file.
